Demons, Part 4
by Princepen
Summary: Part 4 of my re-boot version of TNG's first mission. Here is Chapter 1. Hope you enjoy reading it, and all your reviews are appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Demons, Part 4**

**Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own the Trek**

**Chapter 1**

"For an officer who disobeyed my direct order, you seem quite smug, Zatha. I could have your head, you know."

Commander Zatha sat stiffly in her personal office, on her ship, the _Ishran_. She was facing off, so to speak, with General Thran, whose head and shoulders appeared as a hologram on her desk. "I told you, sir, the Starfleet captain escaped. He was quite capable, despite his being human," she said.

The hologram's eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps you are too smug for an officer who was bested by her own prisoner!"

Commander Zatha resisted the urge to remind her superior that Picard had actually been her guest, before Thran had ordered her to imprison him. They were not at war with Starfleet, and she had no desire to see the entire Federation ripped apart because Thran and other bureaucrats like him were stupid and greedy for power. However, she was very smug, she admitted it. "My personality flaws are my own," replied Zatha. "Sir," she added.

"The result of Captain Picard's _escape_ is that he has reunited with his ship which is now on its way to Vulcan," said General Thran.

"I am not concerned about Picard, General. I am concerned about the Vulcan Defense Force, which is massing as we speak. Their small craft are very swift, like knives."

"But your ship, and all our ships are like hammers, Zatha. You have but to crush them where they stand before they draw their knives."

Zatha sat back in her chair. The metaphors were starting to bother her. "Yes, General," she said simply.

* * *

"Captain, we are approaching the rendezvous point with the _Horatio_," Riker's voice announced via the communications panel.

Picard sat up abruptly in his hospital bed. He had been drifting off. As much as he wanted to get back to work he knew he was still not one hundred percent. More than anything he felt fatigued. "Understood, Commander," he said trying to keep the grogginess out of his voice. "Please invite Captain Keel aboard so that we can meet before proceeding to Vulcan," he ordered.

"Aye sir."

"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely to no one in particular.

"0700 hours," the computer replied serenely.

Picard sat back and rubbed his eyes and sat back. In order to get out of recovery and back on the bridge, he knew that he would need Dr. Crusher's permission. Would she be willing to give it, he wondered? The first step was to stop looking so pathetic. Perhaps that would help to convince her that he was well enough and fit for duty. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Yawning and stretching his body, he was amazed at how stiff he was, just having been in bed for two days. He needed a warm shower.

Heading to the cramped bathroom, he shed his hospital pajamas and stepped into the sonic shower. As the warm waves rushed over him, he actually began to feel his body relax a bit. Opening his eyes to avoid falling asleep again he examined his arms and chest. There were a few minor bruises that would fade completely over the next day. He looked at his right thigh where the Andorian had grazed him with the knife. A long thin blue-ish ragged line was still etched in his skin. He poked at it, and found it to be tender but not painful. Realizing he had been in the shower for longer than he had intended, he turned it off, and stepped out onto the cold floor. Finding a towel and wrapping it around his waist he shuffled out into the recovery room.

* * *

He supposed he really should not have been surprised. Walker Keel stood with his back to him, examining the book Picard had been reading. Walker turned around with a quizzical expression on his face. "Jean-Luc, really? '_Archeological Methodology During the Twenty-Second Century_?' No wonder you are still in recovery; you're slowly boring yourself to death." He tossed the book back on the bed.

Picard sighed and walked toward his friend. He snatched the book off the bed and placed it carefully on the table. "When I ordered Riker to set up a meeting, Walker, I didn't mean in my hospital room," he said with some annoyance. He looked around for his uniform but it was nowhere to be found.

"Well, I told Riker I would find you myself, and he didn't seem to mind." Walker paused. "Have I mentioned I am very happy to see you alive, my friend?" said Walker with a smile. Picard could not help but return the smile, even though he was still irritated.

"Yes, and I am glad to be alive," said Picard. Still not seeing his clothes anywhere, he adjusted his towel and sat down on a chair. "Why is there no replicator in this room?" he muttered. He stood up again as it just occurred to him that Dr. Crusher or her staff would be looking in on him soon, and he needed to get dressed beforehand.

"Replicator?" said Walker. "Why, are you hungry?"

"No…I'm looking for my uniform," he replied testily, looking under the bed. "And if it's not here, it would have been just as acceptable to replicate a new one. You know, you could help me look," his muffled voice came from somewhere near the floor. Suddenly his head jerked back up at the sound of the door chime.

"Come in," Walker called out to the visitor casually. Picard cast him a deadly glance and quickly readjusted his towel, standing as straight as possible in an attempt to look professional.

"Oh perfect", thought Picard sardonically as she walked in. On the bright side, she was carrying a carefully folded black and red uniform and a cup of something hot to drink.

Beverly Crusher appeared mildly surprised upon entering the room. Whether it was Walker's sudden reappearance or his own state of undress that surprised her, Picard might never know. To her credit, she hardly missed a beat. She smiled up at Keel. "Walker, how lovely to see you. Commander Riker said we would be meeting up with the _Horatio_, but it's too bad we have to meet again under these circumstances."

"Beverly, you look wonderful as ever, and horrible circumstances will never change that," said Walker smoothly and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Beverly gave a small chuckle as she gave Walker a brief hug.

She turned to Picard, and he noted that her gaze dropped ever so subtly before re-focusing on his face. Her smile was still there, but seemed slightly less comfortable. She held out the uniform for him to take. "Captain, I thought you might like a change of clothes. After our conversation the other night, I know how important they are to you…." He marveled that she was able to make such a sarcastic sentence sound so endearing. "And, in case you were wondering, I already recycled the uniform you were wearing when you were brought here. It wasn't salvageable."

"Oh, thank you," said Picard trying to sound casual. "I had figured as much," he lied, gripping the uniform to his bare chest somewhat over-protectively.

Beverly took a step back, and set the cup carefully down on a nearby table. She smoothed out her lab coat, suddenly seeming a bit self-conscious. "I thought you might like something to help wake you up. If I recall, you enjoy hot Earl Grey tea," she said, gesturing to the steaming cup of liquid.

Picard's eyebrows rose. "Indeed…I do, thank you."

Beverly flashed a quick, very professional smile. "Alright then, I'll leave you to get dressed." She turned to leave.

"Oh, Doctor," called out Walker with a slightly mischievous grin. "Does this mean he's now fit for duty?"

Crusher turned back and her eyes flicked from Walker to Picard, and back to Walker. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Yes," she said plainly, her face reddening as she turned to leave again.

* * *

Picard picked up the tea cup and sipped it carefully. "I can't believe she remembered what tea I like after all these years," he murmured somewhat absently.

Walker looked at his friend with disbelief. "Forget the tea, Jean-Luc. Did you see the way she was looking at you?"

"Hmm? What way?"

"She's attracted to you, that's 'what way'. Don't you see it?"

Picard sighed and put the mug down with a clatter. _This_ again. "Walker you are tiresome, do you know that? I have no intention of discussing my personal life with you. We'll meet with my staff in forty-five minutes to discuss the Andorian-Vulcan situation. Now go away and let me get dressed," he said grumpily.

"You sound like you are forgetting we're the same rank, Jean-Luc. You certainly don't have to order me to get out." Still Walker didn't budge and they both continued to stand there in stubborn silence.

Suddenly Picard shrugged. "Alright, I'm just going to get dressed now," he threatened.

"Okay, I get it, I'm leaving. You don't have to drop the towel," said Walker putting his hands up in surrender. "I'll see you in 45 minutes," he said and finally turned to leave.

* * *

T'Pel sat cross-legged on the observation deck. She had to drive the trouble from her mind. She knew that this ship was on its way to her home world, and that the political forces had failed. Now the two militaries would come face to face. Somehow the people who had decided to declare war, or certainly had done little to avoid it, had forgotten about the children who had been rescued by the _Enterprise_ and were now on their way back home. And still, T'Pel had her mission to complete.

She had also learned that Captain Picard had recovered from his near death escape from the _Ishran._ Now she knew that he was well, she felt her focus return. "Lower lights seventy percent," she said softly and the room darkened considerably. Light from the stars outside the viewport streamed in and caused shadows to play upon the wall behind her. She had no time to study them. Right now it was the inner shadows that she needed to study, to control. If she failed, he would not come, and he would not allow himself to be drawn out.

She closed her eyes and relaxed her facial muscles and then gradually the rest of her body. She kept her hands folded loosely in her lap, she focused until that was the only sensation she felt. In her mind her hands reached out and opened a small window and she reached out and pulled herself through. She was in darkness, but her hands reached out again and pulled open a heavy wooden door. The hallway was long and narrow, and the writings of Surak covered the clay walls. His writings led all of Vulcan to freedom through logic in the 4th century. As every child learned from a young age, and T'pel was no exception, Surak's writings had reformed a society and created the way forward. There was little else more sacred to most Vulcans than Surak's ideas made real.

She heard a scraping noise, at first faint and it seemed to grow louder as she focused her gaze down the hallway. She halted and squinted, looking down the long corridor. She began to walk forward, and the scraping sound increased. She saw a crouching figure at the end of the hallway. He was using a metal tool to scrape the walls. His shape was almost as familiar to her as her own, even though she had seen him only once as an adult. "Ra'Val!" she shouted out to him. He dug methodically at the writings that covered the walls. His intent she knew was not just to erase Surak's writings from the walls, as the vision showed her, but to erase Surak's impact on society. She knew that his aim was not to teach a different way, but to destroy what was.

Slowly Ra'Val stood up. Unlike in their youth he towered over her by nearly a foot. He smiled down at her and dropped the tool on the ground almost carelessly. "You have found me my sister. Now what do you intend to do to stop me?"

T'Pel's eyes snapped open and in front of her stood the little boy, Thar. Even in the dark room, his eyes seemed to be enveloped in a deep blackness. "Answer me," the boy demanded, but his voice was not his own anymore; it was that of her brother.

* * *

"Wes, come on and eat. I've got a staff meeting in 30 minutes."

Wesley Crusher sat in his bedroom at his desk, trying to fine-tune his latest project. But he kept coming up against a wall. If he didn't finish it soon, there would be no point to it really. "Okay, Mom, I'm coming," he called out.

Moments later he sat across from his mother at the breakfast table. He fiddled with his spoon and slid his cereal bowl back and forth absentmindedly. All he could think about was finishing his project.

"Eat," ordered his mother. "You need fuel for that diabolical brain of yours, Wesley."

Reluctantly, he turned at least part of his attention to his corn flakes.

Beverly Crusher bit into an apple and stirred her coffee as she watched her son. She couldn't believe that less than 48 hours ago he had pulled off the impossible in the shuttle bay. And now here he was, unable to train his brain to eat his cereal.

She frowned, looking at him more closely. He was wearing a light jacket, under which he appeared to be wearing some kind of shiny pin on his tunic. It was partially covered. "What is that you're wearing?" she asked gesturing somewhat accusingly with her apple.

"Uh—it's a communicator," he said trying to be serious, but the corners of his mouth twitched into what she had to admit was a cute smile.

"Where did you get it?" Now she did not bother to soften her accusing tone.

Wesley took a deep breath. "Captain Picard," he said sounding very proud of himself.

Crusher was thoroughly surprised. "Really?"  
"Yeah, he had Mr. Data make it for me. The Captain said I should use it to communicate with Commander Riker the next time I have a good idea. But I think he really gave it to me to keep track of me in emergencies."

Beverly pulled at a croissant. "Really," she said again. A small smile played across her lips. "What a good idea," she said taking a sip of her coffee. She grew thoughtful for a moment. "So, did you have a good talk then?" She ventured carefully.

"Kind of," he said slowly. "We talked about what kinds of projects I've worked on and how Captain Picard and Dad used to go running, and even how much it rained the day of Dad's funeral."

Beverly put her coffee cup down, and realized her hand was suddenly unsteady. "You talked about all of that?"

"Well…actually I did most of the talking," said Wesley. "He mostly listened."

"Oh." She picked up her cup again. "Well that sounds about right," she murmured.

"Oh and he did ask me to go running with him," Wesley added. His mother's jaw dropped again.

"Well wonders never cease," she said laughing. "He's never asked me to go running with him, that's for sure." She stopped laughing abruptly. "But he's right; he and Jack did go running together. They were both very athletic, but Jack was more into team sports, while Jean-Luc was into more solitary things like running and wrestling. I think Jack only went running to be with Jean-Luc. He didn't care whether he won or not. They really looked out for each other," she said somewhat distantly. She smiled at her son, with a sudden sadness in her eyes. "I don't mean to ramble."

"It's okay, Mom."

She stood up. "We've both got things to do, right?" Wesley nodded and picked up his bowl and brought it over to the replicator, switching on its disposal function. He picked up the rest of the dishes and did the same. Then he turned around to look at his mother. "Mom, can I ask you a personal question?"

Beverly hesitated, while putting her lab coat on. "Sure," she said, not sure what to expect after that breakfast.

"Did you ever date anyone after Dad died?"

Beverly opened and shut her mouth without a sound. "Um, yes…but nothing serious," she said. It was true, but she had no idea if it was what he wanted to hear. "Why?" she asked him.

Wesley was clearly now embarrassed by his own question. "Uh, nothing…it's just that if you ever wanted to date anyone, I mean in a…serious or not so serious way, I hope you wouldn't worry about what I think. I just want you to be happy."

* * *

Hey everyone, thanks for reading and reviewing! Peace out -PP


	2. Chapter 2

**Demons Part 4, **

**Chapter 2**

The doors to the conference room swished open, and Beverly Crusher found the room empty, save for one occupant hunched over his computer terminal. She hesitated before entering the room because she hadn't meant to be early. Judging by the Captain's posture, and the way he was leaning his forehead into the palm of his hand, and tapping the table with the index finger of his other hand, he was too engrossed in what he was doing to even notice her arrival.

She could not help but feel that she was intruding on his personal space. She was used to being the last one to show up at staff meetings because normally she had to practically be dragged to them. But this was a new job, and she was trying to break old habits. At least the bad ones. She waited quietly, watching him for a moment.

Finally, he looked up at her from his computer screen, and the tension and worry in his features related to whatever he had been reading seemed to lessen, only to be replaced by another kind of tension. Perhaps the same kind she too was experiencing. "Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor, I didn't mean to leave you standing there."

"It's good to see you up and around, sir" she said walking toward him. Picard stood up and walked around the table to meet her. "Thank you," he said. "You are a bit early, Doctor. I was just catching up on the latest reports from Vulcan. I admit that I have some misgivings about dragging my new and relatively untested crew into a potential war."

She knew that she was likely the only person on board who he would admit that to. She could see that he did not yet trust Troi enough to confide his fears to her, which was unfortunate in Beverly's opinion. She could see how much Troi wanted to be of value to the Captain. And she doubted he would admit anything close to fear to his new first officer although she could already see a relationship of trust growing between the two men.

Beverly nodded. "The situation is frightening. Have you talked with T'Pel? I can't imagine how she is feeling. First, her brother murders a whole group of people and disappears and now a potential war is brewing because of his actions. She must feel incredibly guilty about all of this."

Picard looked quizzical. "Guilty? What for?"

"Well wouldn't you be if you were in her situation, Jean-Luc? It's her brother."

"One should not feel responsible for the sins of one's blood relatives, Doctor" he said earnestly. "Besides," he added, "T'Pel is Vulcan."

Beverly laughed in disbelief. "Jean-Luc, what is _that_ supposed to mean? That she doesn't have feelings?"

He appeared mildly offended. "Beverly, I am well aware that T'Pel is capable of having feelings," he said in a low, slightly embarrassed voice, as though he were afraid someone else was listening.

She blushed. "Oh, of course, I didn't mean to suggest…I mean I know you probably know her better than anyone," she finished awkwardly. He glanced away from her and a strange feeling, like an old uninvited acquaintance was now in the room with them. They stood in silence for a few moments.

"Jean-Luc, how are you feeling?" Beverly asked rather abruptly. "You know I have the authority to re-admit you to sickbay, if I'm not satisfied with your recovery," she said half-seriously.

"I am well," he said leaning back against the obsidian table. "I promise," he added with a small smile. The truth was, he was still rather fatigued, and his right leg had become stiff and sore since his discharge from sickbay earlier that morning. A slow burning sensation periodically came and went along the length of the scar.

"What about this?" she reached up and lightly touched the healing cut above his eyebrow. It didn't hurt, but he flinched slightly at the touch of her hand, which he hoped she did not take offense to. "It's fine," he insisted quietly.

She smiled slightly at his reaction, but instead of taking her hand away, she moved her palm to rest on his cheekbone and held it there. "The wound healing process has been slowed by your bout of poisoning, but you'll feel more like yourself in a few days or so," she said softly.

"No doubt," said Picard. "Of course I have you to thank for that," he added. He reached up to touch her wrist with the intent of moving her hand, but her skin was so unexpectedly soft and smelled so wonderful that he ended up just holding her wrist lightly. Suddenly he was at a loss of what to do next. His mind and body were now communicating in a frantic series of conflicting warnings and possibilities. She nodded and said "Uh huh," to whatever it was he had just said—he could no longer remember just what- and then she had moved closer to him, and her hand had dropped to touch his chest. Her lips parted slightly as he felt his breath catch in his lungs.

The interfering hiss of the conference room door startled them and they moved away from each other quickly. Beverly, smoothed out her lab coat and, wrapped it around her protectively. Counselor Troi stood in the doorway bearing a very neutral expression. "Good morning, Captain, Doctor," she said, moving gracefully in to the room.

"Good morning," they said at the same time, in the same self-conscious rushed tone. Picard winced slightly and moved back to his seat. Troi sat down slowly and carefully began to examine her fingernails with interest.

* * *

T'Pel stood on the observation deck face to face with what appeared to be Thar, one of the young Vulcan survivors from the Andorian moon. But she now knew that this appearance was a mere disguise. If she had not been Vulcan, she would have felt immense fear and revulsion toward who or what stood before her, but for now, her emotional control held fast.

"You should never have tried to hunt me down, sister."

"I still do not understand...Ra'Val, how are you being hidden inside this child?"

"The child died down on the Andorian moon. With the others," he added. "But you still see him because it is what I wish you to perceive. If I want to make you see me as I was years ago when we were brother and sister on Vulcan, I can do that just as simply." Suddenly, as he had promised, he appeared as a young teenager, just as he looked when he left her parents' home. He had left at the age of fourteen, just before their father had finally decided to drive him away. Just as instantly, Ra'Val appeared again as an adult, now much taller than her and dressed in grey robes.

"Even powerful minds such as yours can be manipulated, T'Pel," he said.

"To what end would you manipulate my mind, Ra'Val? Are we not still brother and sister? "countered T'Pel.

Ra'Val's eyes narrowed. "Do you not see? I am more than what I was. Much more."

"Perhaps you are less than you once were. Why did you kill all of those people? Why did you destroy even your own followers? Your behavior is highly illogical, highly destructive."

Her brother merely smiled. "And so now you have been sent to destroy me, is that the case? Tell me, are you prepared to kill your flesh and blood?"

She ignored his question. "Why did you leave Vulcan?"

"I outgrew Vulcan, just as I outgrew our home when we were children. My mind was stifled by the order of Vulcan society and has now been freed by the wonderful disorder of emotion. Because you are blinded by the teachings of Surak, you do not understand that your mind was meant to be free from logic," said Ra'Val.

"So you wished to join our distant cousins on Romulus, then? To be free from logic?"

"Even the Romulans have much to learn from me," he said with plain arrogance. "Had our ship not been disabled by the Andorians and crashed on that moon our small freighter would have been able to survive long enough for us to gain proper passage to Romulus. But something happened to me on that Andorian moon. The Andorians attacked me, and I had but to think…and they were gone. I have evolved. Once I felt the need to travel far away to join others who would understand my ways. But now I am happy to return to my people. By bringing me back home, you have unwittingly allowed me to re-join with Vulcan people. Perhaps it is my destiny."

T'Pel, stared up at him, shoulders squared. "What is your intent, Ra'Val? You may be able to control my mind and even the minds of this crew, but you cannot enslave the minds of an entire planet."

An aura seemed to surround him, making his robes appear to shimmer. "I do not intend to enslave anyone, my sister. They will either willingly join me or be destroyed. I have no use for this crew, aside from you of course. I will return to Vulcan in triumph, with a starship under my command."

Tpel raised an eyebrow. "You will return to Vulcan in restraints," she responded calmly.

He smiled. "You have attained supremacy of logic through Kolinahr and yet you deny the reality of this situation. If I leave this room no one else on board this ship will be able to stop me."

"Then you will not leave this room," said T'Pel.

* * *

Geordi LaForge was late for a staff meeting, and Wesley, it appeared, was late for school. "Hey Wes, wait up," said Geordi, quickening his pace to catch up with the teenager in front of him in the corridor. "What is that you've got there?" he nodded at the globe-like object under Wesley's arm.

Wesley slowed and smiled at LaForge. "It's a prototype. A modification of the energy field generator I created in shuttle bay one. As soon as I can figure out how to create a portable energy source strong enough, we can set it up anywhere on the ship."

Geordi stared at him. "And why would 'we' want to do that?" asked LaForge, folding his arms over his chest skeptically.

"Well, Ra'Val is still on the loose," said Wesley. He shrugged. "What if we could spring a trap to catch him?"

"Assuming he shows up," said Geordi. "He hasn't shown himself yet, and pretty soon we'll be arriving at Vulcan. I for one am having a hard time believing that he's even here."

Wesley shrugged again. "I guess you're right…I just—"

Geordi patted him on the shoulder. "I know, you were trying to help. Listen, why don't you meet me and Commander Data later this afternoon and the three of us can discuss whether this could be modified further into something that is workable. If the three of us put our heads together, we might be able to pull something together faster. Okay?"

Wesley grinned. "Yeah, okay," he agreed. Geordi clapped him on the back jovially, but his smile faded as he considered whether Captain Picard would forgive his lateness. They continued walking together, and until Geordi slowed, and his head jerked upward.

"What is it?" Asked Wesley alarmed.

"Some kind of crazy energy surge one deck up. I'm going to go check it out," said LaForge running to the closest turbo lift.

"Can I come with you?" Wesley stood in the middle of the corridor looking dejected and still holding his school belongings.

Geordi sighed loudly and held the turbo lift door. "As long as we can agree, I'm not explaining this to your teacher and especially not to your mother," he said. Wesley grinned and hurried to join him in the lift.

When they arrived at the observation deck they were surprised to find the corridor lights flickering on and off. Geordi used his visor to locate the energy disturbance he had seen from the deck below. Wesley followed close behind him, but LaForge didn't seem to notice, he was so focused on what his visor was telling him. He halted outside one of the observation lounges. "There are two humanoids in here," said LaForge. "Two Vulcan adults!" He turned to look at Wesley and then walked into the door. It didn't budge. It had been sealed from the inside. How, he had no idea, as he could tell the locking system was not engaged. "Wow…" he said, touching his visor lightly. with some effort he could see the two beings inside the observation room. "Wes, they're floating in mid-air!"

* * *

"The Andorians and Vulcans have a stormy history, to say the least," said Captain Picard. "I have asked Lt. Commander Data to prepare an overview of that history, as we prepare to attempt to intervene in this impending conflict. Mr. Data?" Picard seriously hoped that Data could keep his summary to fifteen minutes or less, but given the android's track history so far, it was merely wishful thinking he knew.

All eyes shifted to rest on the android Data who nodded. "The Andorians and Vulcans were closely allied during the 20th and 21st centuries, with a few exceptions. It was not until the mid- 22nd century when the Andorians discovered that the Vulcan government had implemented an intricate surveillance program throughout Andorian society. What followed were a series of wars and a period of more subdued hostility characterized by propaganda and the stockpiling of armaments."

"A cold war," said Walker Keel. "But we're over two hundred years since these two societies were at war. Even when I was involved in more…covert activities, there was not even a whisper of the threat of war between the Vulcans and Andorians."

"It's not hard to believe that recent events would be enough to trigger a new war, though, Captain. The Andorians lost over one hundred colonists apparently at the hands of one Vulcan," said Riker.

"It is still so strange to think of a Vulcan harming anyone except in self-defense, or because it is…well logical I suppose," said Troi.

"It is hard for any of us here to see Vulcans as violent, given the way that Vulcans conduct themselves in recent memory, but as Data explained there is a documented history of violence," said Picard. "And prior to the unification of Vulcan society under Surak's teachings, the whole of Vulcan society was embroiled in civil war." He gestured to his second officer. "Data please continue with-"

Suddenly the conference room door burst open and Lt. LaForge and Wesley Crusher came running into the room, both of them out of breath.

* * *

Picard stood up angrily. "Lt. LaForge, where the hell have you been…and why do you have Mr. Crusher with you?" He trailed off, looking both puzzled and angry now.

Geordi stood at attention, and Wesley adopted a similar stance, attempting to avoid the penetrating gaze of his mother. "Sorry I'm late sir," breathed LaForge. "It's Ra'Val, Captain. I think he and T'Pel have locked themselves in one of the lounges on the observation deck."

The other officers were standing now. "Captain," said Yar, moving to his side. "I recommend we move fast and send my security teams down to capture Ra'Val." Riker and Walker Keel began talking at the same time.

Picard held up his hand as if telling everyone to hold on for a moment. "We already know Ra'Val is capable of killing with a thought. Right now, T'Pel is our best hope. And I know it sounds strange, but she will at least buy us some time."

"Captain aren't you gambling with her life?" Counselor Troi stared at him with barely contained astonishment. Yar shot her an unfriendly look.

"For the record," said Walker. "She's risked her own life to confront him anyway, and she has her own plan. I highly doubt she would want our help now."

"Walker how on earth can you say a thing like that?" said Beverly with disgust. "We've got to go and help her."

"Sir, we have no idea why she's there," said Riker. "They are siblings, and she did keep that very important piece of information a secret from you—"

"I agree with Riker," said Walker. "I know you have a long history with her, Jean-Luc, but we don't know enough about her activities during the last ten years. Her loyalty—"

"Walker, I'm not going to play a guessing game with you about what T'Pel is thinking," snapped Picard. He didn't see in the least how his history with T'Pel was relevant to their current problem.

Keel shrugged. "Fine. Let's begin evacuation procedures onto my ship."

"Walker, you can't absorb more than a third of my crew safely. I need ideas about how to capture Ra'Val without losing the lives of my crew," he said.

LaForge spoke up. "Wes has an idea." The whole room fell silent and turned to stare at Wesley, who stood holding his homemade science project.

* * *

Picard sat with Data, LaForge and Wesley Crusher in his ready room. He had ordered the other senior officers back to the bridge for the time being. All civilians had been ordered back to their quarters and were told to engage their personal security systems.

"What exactly is this device capable of doing that a simple force field is not?" Picard asked.

"First of all we think we can modify it so that it can be emitted from a phaser," said LaForge. "So the odds of us catching Ra'Val off guard can only improve if more of the crew has the ability to catch him."

"Well we've taken as many measures as I can think of to catch someone who is as elusive as a ghost. Now that we know where is we have a chance to detain or at least slow him. My concern is that when he's confronted will he kill before we are able to capture him?"

"Based on his recent actions, that is highly likely, sir," said Data.

Laforge shot Data a look. "That's true sir, but I still think Wesley's idea is worth a try."

Picard's brow furrowed. "You are right of course. We haven't any better ideas at this point. And we've reached a crucial point at which there is no escaping that we are all in grave danger. "He sighed. "I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention and you in particular Mr. Crusher for formulating the idea in the first place. I will rely on the expertise of Mr. Data and Mr. LaForge to use the resources in Engineering to complete the final construction of this device. But…I am afraid I cannot risk putting you in danger by allowing you to assist these two officers, Mr. Crusher."

Wesley reddened, looking as though he wanted to protest, but did not.

"Wesley," said Picard firmly but gently. "You will stay on the bridge with me." Wesley's eyes grew wider. Seeing Wesley's reaction he clarified "You may sit at one of the science stations and communicate with Mr. Data and Mr. LaForge from there as to the progress. Dismissed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Demons, Part 4**

**Chapter 3**

Wesley Crusher stepped proudly out of the ready room to find his mother waiting for him, her hands shoved into the pockets of her lab coat. "Why the hell aren't you in school?" Beverly Crusher demanded, as Wesley walked out of the ready room ahead of Data and LaForge. "Your job is to be in school, not throwing yourself in the middle of each new crisis."

"The Captain said…" Wesley began to mutter.

Crusher let out a sharp laugh. "Oh I see. Listen, young man, you answer to me first, and I hope that you are not forgetting that. This has nothing to do with Captain Picard; this has to do with your failure to take responsibility for your actions. Now, you are to go back to your class right now, and explain to the teacher why you are an hour late."

"Mom, school got out early, remember? Captain Picard just ordered all civilians to their quarters," Wesley reminded his mother, trying to not sound too self-satisfied. Still, he could tell his mother was not impressed. In fact, at the mention of Captain Picard's name she seemed to grow even more annoyed.

Seeing a pause in the drama, LaForge tried to duck around the Doctor, but Crusher put up her hands. "Wait a minute, Lieutenant. You brought my son to a senior staff meeting, so I would like to know what role you played in making sure he didn't get to class this morning," she said.

LaForge glanced at Wesley, hoping he remembered their agreement about not having to explain Wesley's absence: "…and especially not to your mother," drifted through the helmsman's skull. By getting into the lift with LaForge, Wesley had implicitly agreed to allow LaForge keep his mouth shut, should any questions be asked later on. But Wesley was just staring down at the deck sheepishly, and provided no assistance. "Uh…I held the turbo lift door," Geordi admitted reluctantly.

"If I may interject," said Data. "Captain Picard just ordered Lt. LaForge and I to go to engineering, and therefore—"

Crusher turned to him abruptly. "Oh, are you involved in this too?"

Data's head swiveled back and forth rapidly looking from person to person. "No, Doctor, I—"

Just then, the Captain stepped out of his ready room with an irritated expression on his face. "Commander Data and Lt. LaForge you are _dismissed. _I need you both in engineering. Mr. Crusher, please report to science station 2." He turned on his heel and walked back in to his office without another word.

* * *

Crusher, now highly irritated, stepped in behind him before the doors closed. As they shut behind them, Picard turned and was clearly surprised to see her standing there.

"Yes?" was all he could manage.

"Captain, when were you planning to inform me that you've recruited my son into Starfleet?"

"Recruited?" Picard was incredulous.

"You ordered him to report to 'science station 2'. Is he part of your crew now?"

"No, of course not. But he did volunteer—"

"He's _fourteen_ years old, Jean-Luc. Do you really think he should be volunteering for Starfleet assignments without my consent?"

Picard took a deep breath. "The device we are building to capture Ra'Val was Wesley's idea, Doctor. It would have been wrong of me to prevent him from being involved."

"Don't try to turn this into a moral issue, so that you can be the one who is right, Jean-Luc."

His jaw tightened at the obvious slight. He knew there was no way to win this argument. "Beverly, I considered confining him to quarters like the other civilians, but I simply thought he would be safer here on the bridge."

"As he is my son, I'm not sure it was your decision to make. The fact is, Jean-Luc, he would do anything you asked him to do, and that scares me." She immediately regretted saying what she had been thinking. She could tell by the slightly wounded look in his eyes that her words had hit their mark.

He folded his arms over his chest defensively, but his voice remained controlled. "Of course, given our history, Beverly, I can see how you would feel that way. I shouldn't be surprised that you don't trust me to make decisions involving your son's welfare."

"What do you mean 'our history'?"

He remained silent, but gradually she realized what he meant, and now it was she who became defensive. "This isn't about Jack," she insisted.

He looked at her. "I never said it was," he said quietly.

"Yes, well I'm learning you convey a great deal without saying what you think," she said pointedly. She felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, but she blinked them away.

They stared at each other a few more moments in uncomfortable silence. Whatever closeness they had experienced just an hour ago when they had been alone, seemed to have escaped the room. "Then perhaps you should return to sickbay and attend to your duties there," said Picard quietly.

Crusher inhaled sharply and turned to leave.

* * *

"Then you will not leave this room." After she uttered these words, all color seemed to immediately leave the room and T'Pel perceived that she was lifted off of her feet and into the air. Ra'Val hung before her in mid-air, and his eyes had again grown dark. His robes billowed out around him, and he seemed to expand, or the room appeared to shrink.

T'Pel closed her eyes and let his rage radiate through her, letting it pass through. She heard a low hum and in the next moment found herself thrust backward into the wall. She felt her back strike the bulkhead with full force. Still, she remained in the air, through Ra'Val's strange power. She spun, and pushed her legs into the wall, sending her spinning back at him in the direction in which she had come. He easily evaded her head on attack, and struck her on the back of her head as she passed. She shook her head, and cleared it, turning to face him again.

His mouth was fixed in a frightening grin. Focusing on a thought, she lowered her head and the thought became a wave, hitting Ra'Val and spinning him around quickly. She kept the thought fixed on him until he was steadily spinning rapidly as if he were a machine. Suddenly he halted and immediately began spinning the opposite way, faster and faster until he no longer resembled a living being. A great wind began to stir in the observation lounge, and chairs and other fixtures began circling the room in mid-air as if orbiting Ra'Val. T'Pel continued to keep her thoughts focused on him. She could not let him escape. She felt her body being drawn into the cloud of circling objects, and suddenly she was nothing but an orbiting, flailing object under Ra'Val's control.

* * *

"Wow," said Riker under his breath as Crusher exited the Captain's ready room with a full head of steam and headed over to Wesley Crusher who was seated at the science station. She stooped over her son; hand on his shoulder, speaking quietly to him for a few moments before leaving on the turbo lift. Riker couldn't help but notice again that she was a very attractive woman, and somehow her obvious anger did something to enhance this quality. And she had no fear of Captain Picard, unlike every other person on board. He also felt for the Captain, who he knew had nerves of steel, but still…. "She is something…" he smiled in admiration, but became serious again, when he saw Troi was looking at him with a look that said "oh grow up Will".

Riker stood up quickly as Picard left his ready room and approached the command center. "Report," he said. If he was disturbed by his heated conversation with Doctor Crusher he certainly didn't appear so to Riker.

"Captain Keel has beamed back to the _Horatio. _He says he stands ready to assist, should we need it, Captain. In addition, Admiral Imhoff has ordered the _USS Columbia_ to join us at Vulcan. Your orders, sir?" said Riker.

Picard nodded. "We'll continue to proceed to Vulcan as planned. Commander, I would like you to ensure that our evacuation procedures are ready, should we need them. And we need to expect casualties should we engage in battle over Vulcan. Please coordinate with Doctor Crusher as needed."

"Aye sir," said Riker and headed for the lift.

Picard sat down in his command chair stiffly, and Troi was nearly pushed over by the haze of turmoil within his mind. He was outwardly calm, but inwardly he was struggling to maintain control of his anger, and to stifle something else. Longing…and guilt; yes, it was clear as day to her.

"Captain," said Troi. "I am concerned that the Vulcan children are at-risk."

"All of the children on this ship are at-risk now, Counselor," Picard said gruffly, as he studied the command panel on the arm of his chair. "_This is what happens when Starfleet allows children aboard a Starship. Nothing but damn trouble."_ he thought crossly.

Troi interlaced her fingers. "That is true," she said in a measured tone, responding to his statement and ignoring his grumpy thoughts about children. "But I think that the Redeemer children will be targeted by Ra'Val if he is able to find them."

Picard continued to refuse to look up from his task, as he typed code into the panel. "How do you know this?"

Deanna raised an eyebrow. "I sense it, sir," she said with a slight edge. A wave of something from him—was it skepticism? _"He still doesn't trust me,"_ she thought to herself. _"He is so afraid of his own feelings that he doubts anyone who makes it their work to know feelings and emotions." _A realization struck her. _"Is he afraid of my abilities?"_

He finally turned to regard her with a piercing gaze. "And what do you recommend, Counselor? We cannot very well hide them from someone who is capable of reading everyone's mind on this ship."

"Perhaps we can, sir. Let me go to them sir. I will try and convince them to quiet their minds, so that they can hide themselves."

His expression turned from disbelief, to some semblance of understanding. He nodded. "Lt. Yar," he said into the communications link. "Please personally accompany Counselor Troi and the Vulcan children to a new location, and place a security team inside with them."

"Aye sir," came Yar's voice.

Picard looked at Deanna. "Please keep me aware of your progress, Counselor. No unnecessary risks. And once you have finished with the children, report back to the bridge. I may need you here," he said.

* * *

How could he leave one of his oldest friends in danger? No matter how many times Picard thought about the threat to the entire crew, he could not help but think of T'Pel, and the pain and suffering she was no doubt experiencing at the hands of her own brother. He still believed that she was their only hope of slowing Ra'Val down. Not only was she his sibling, which one hoped would make him less likely to want to harm her, at least fatally, but she was also an incredibly powerful telepath, and she had been trained to control her thoughts and emotions in ways few others were capable of. He reminded himself that T'Pel would never have been sentimental about the situation, nor would she have allowed emotions to cloud her judgment if she were in his position. Still, he dared not to think what he would do, if she was killed. He would not be surprised that if he really considered it, his heart would surely stop.

"_And I never should have tried with the boy_," thought Picard as he finished sending a status report to Admiral Imhoff. _"I have no instinct for relating to children…or to their mothers it seems. What a fool,"_ he thought bitterly. He sighed and got up, feeling stiff. He limped slightly as he walked up the ramp to approach the science station where Wesley Crusher was sitting. Wesley was studying a three dimensional sphere projected from the screen he was watching. The sphere turned, depending on which way the boy moved his hand. Watching him, Picard felt a pang of something, he wasn't sure what, but he buried it, and continued his approach. "Mr. Crusher, how is our progress?"

"Oh, hi Captain," said Wesley turning around with a smile. "Well, we're about 50 percent complete, but for the amount of energy it requires to operate, the device is still too large."

Picard nodded curtly. "Very well," he said. "Please patch me in to Mr. Data in engineering."

"Okay, I mean yes, sir." He watched as Wesley hesitated only slightly and then created the link to Engineering with the ease of someone who had been trained to do it. The feeling came back. "_He's so like Jack,"_ he thought, and then mentally brushed the thought aside.

"Commander Data," said Picard, leaning into the terminal. "Is it feasible to finish this within the next thirty minutes? I have no idea the exact amount of time we have, assuming that T'Pel is unable to stop Ra'Val and he runs loose on this ship."

"Yes, sir, I believe that it is possible to fashion this device to fit a phased weapon in the amount of time you indicated. However, the original plan of fitting multiple phasers with the device will take additional time, which as you suggested, we may not have."

"Does Lt. LaForge concur?"

"Yes, Captain," piped in LaForge. "Because of the amount of energy this thing is going to be packing, our best bet is to fit it with one of the phaser rifles, as opposed to the sidearm, sir."

"Understood," said Picard. He paused. "Data, perhaps this goes without saying, but considering the circumstances, I want you to keep the modified phaser in your possession. Ra'Val has no power over your mind, and you will be the least affected by him. However, if he is able to move objects telepathically, which no doubt he is, you will not be completely safe, despite your other abilities. We may need to place all of our hopes in you, Data," he said.

"Understood sir."

Picard stood back and turned to Worf, who was covering for Yar at tactical while she organized security teams all over the ship. "How long before we reach Vulcan, Mr. Worf?"

"Three hours and forty-two minutes, sir."

"Very good," he said curtly and turned back to Wesley.

"Captain? I'm sorry about what happened earlier…you know with my Mom."

Picard cleared his throat. There was no way he was going to get into this right now, or if he had his way—ever. "Please try and focus on the task at hand, Mr. Crusher," he said tiredly.

"Aye sir." He began typing figures into the console at an impressive rate. Picard struggled to keep up with the equations appearing one after another on the screen. "You know she has quite a temper sometimes sir, but she almost always calms down," said Wesley.

Picard shut his eyes in frustration. "Don't speak ill of your mother, young man," he said sternly. "She only has your best interests in mind."

"Yes sir."


	4. Chapter 4

**Demons, Part 4**

**Chapter 4**

"Data, I'm not feeling all that optimistic about this project. Is there some reason why you told the Captain we could finish this in 30 minutes?" LaForge asked while maneuvering a laser tool over the field generator. They had tested a larger prototype and were now working hard to fabricate a much smaller tube-like device about the size of Geordi's index finger. The problem was, they were running out of time.

Data looked up from his tricorder. "Yes, Geordi. Captain Picard asked whether the device could be completed in 30 minutes. I then calculated the odds and determined that it was indeed a possibility. "

Geordi looked up, his expression blank. Sweat beaded up on his forehead. "And...what exactly were those odds?" He asked slowly.

"Five hundred to one," Data replied.

"Data, that's crazy! Why didn't you explain that to him?"

Data looked at Geordi. "Geordi, I have learned over the past week that Captain Picard appears to grow impatient when I attempt to explain levels of probability to him. On one occasion he ordered me to stop speaking."

"He's always impatient, Data," said LaForge. "Trust me; you need to learn when to give him as much information as possible, and when to leave some of the more extraneous details out."

Data's smooth brow furrowed in a very realistic expression of confusion. "I do not understand. How will I know when Captain Picard wants to know the truth and when he wants to be lied to?"

"Whoa, I didn't say anything about lying, Data. You can't lie," LaForge clarified. "But, for instance, the next time the Captain comes up with a timeline that is _completely_ unrealistic for getting our work done, it might not be such a bad idea to let him know that we will actually need more time. On the other hand, there are other times when he just won't want to know the odds."

"But…how will I know which is the appropriate course of action, Geordi?"

Geordi shut off the laser tool for a moment and waved it around for dramatic effect. "Look, it's a learning process, Data. For all of us." He snapped his fingers. "Hey, what if I gave you a signal? You know, when I think Captain Picard might need a little extra information, I'll clear my throat. And when you should just keep it short, I'll sneeze. Okay?"

"Okay," said Data.

The communications panel chirped. _"Data, what is your status? Are you and Lt. LaForge nearly finished?"_ came Picard's voice on the other end.

Data hesitated. "No sir," he said.

"_What?_" demanded Picard's voice.

Data turned to Geordi for guidance.

Geordi made a waving gesture with his hand and then cleared his throat, as promised.

"We have determined that your deadline of 30 minutes is completely unrealistic, sir. Accordingly, we require additional time, Captain," said Data. He glanced at LaForge for approval. Instead, Geordi was frantically miming an odd cutting motion across his neck with the index finger of his hand. Data was not familiar with this new signal.

There was a substantial delay on the other end. "_Oh really… well, you are just going to have to make do with the time you have been given, Mr. Data._ _Picard out."_

Data turned to LaForge, looking perplexed. "I do not believe the Captain understood my statement, Geordi."

"Ohhh, yes he did," Geordi assured his friend.

* * *

T'Pel moved her foot slowly and then her knee. She blinked her eyes a few times and found that her difficulty seeing was not injury related, but that an object above her was obscuring her vision. She worked to free her arms and felt a shooting pain down her neck. Focusing her mind she pushed upward applying as much force as she could. The object rattled but did not move. The object was not too heavy for her, but must have been stuck on something else. Focusing her mind again she pushed until she could feel her facial muscles quivering with the effort. She lay back feeling the pain in her neck again and calmed her mind ignoring the exhaustion of her injured body. The next time she carefully placed her palms upon the flat surface of the object it slid out of the way smoothly with much less effort.

Now that the ceiling of the observation lounge was visible she could see that she was tangled in a heap of refuse that RaVal had no doubt buried her in just minutes ago. She had a dim memory of being carried around the room in mid-air but remembered little afterwards until the moment she regained consciousness. She had been able to keep the door to the observation lounge secured by using the focus of her mind, but surely, after she had fallen unconscious, her brother had been able to escape. She could not be sure however, if anything was capable of holding him captive. She could hear a faint rasping noise from behind her. With considerable force of will she struggled to her feet tossing a chair out of the way.

Once on her feet, she raised her left arm before her eyes in dazed fascination. The artificial skin she had grown used to seeing on her cybernetic arm for the last ten years had cracked and was peeling off grotesquely, completely exposing her metallic hand. The rasping sound seemed to grow steadier, and then she saw what it was. RaVal was crouched in the center of the room, head down, breathing very deeply. He appeared to be regaining his strength, much of which had been depleted from using his mind as a weapon.

She walked toward him, flexing her cybernetic fist. If she could not defeat him with her mind, it appeared she would need to resort to her physical abilities. The breathing slowed as she approached. He looked up at her suddenly. A fleeting look of non-recognition passed over his face as his eyes rested on her robotic hand. "You cannot defeat me," he said in a low voice. "I do not want to harm you, sister."

T'Pel flexed her fist again. "You already have" she said, and punched him in the side of his temple. He fell to the floor as though lifeless, but slowly the greenish welt she had raised on the side of his head; a wound that she knew would have killed a normal person, began to grow smooth and disappear as though it had never been there. His eyes opened and began to laugh and turned to her with an almost paralyzing look, and she knew he was regaining his power.

Before he could stand, she leapt toward him and gripped the base of his neck with her right hand in a nerve pinch. With her left hand, she struck at his face again. But this time, her metallic fist was stopped by an invisible force. Ra'Val was staring at the hand, and gradually he used his power to push it away from his face, back toward her. T'Pel felt a great heat, as she attempted to counter his resistance, but now she noted with concern that her cybernetic hand was beginning to glow orange. It appeared that he was using his mind to melt it.

* * *

Chief of Security Tasha Yar met Counselor Troi at the turbo lift as ordered. She had no idea what the Captain intended for Counselor Troi to accomplish, with the children but Yar had no intention of questioning her orders. "Counselor," she said curtly, as Troi stepped off of the lift.

"Lieutenant," said Troi, matching Yar's formal tone. "Thank you for meeting me," she said.

"Of course," said Yar easily, and began striding through toward their destination. The security chief had long slender legs and it was difficult for Troi, who was much shorter, to keep up.

Troi eyed the young woman as they continued at a near run through the corridor toward the children's quarters. "You're not in the least bit scared are you?"

"Of what?" Asked Tasha. Given the circumstances taking place on the ship at that moment, Yar's puzzled response was amazing, but at the same time, completely honest.

"Of anything, really," said Troi. "A madman is on the loose and the Enterprise may be headed into battle. But death is nothing to you, is it?"

Yar stopped abruptly. "What the hell did you just say?"

"I said, death is nothing to you, but apparently judging by your reaction, I was wrong."

"You _are_ wrong," said Tasha. "Just because I don't talk about how scared I am, or how much I might fear death like anyone else, that doesn't mean these things don't affect me."

"You have seen so much suffering in your life. It's perfectly understandable that you would put up barriers," said Troi, as they picked up the pace again. Yar did not answer, and Troi decided she would let the matter drop.

When they reached the Vulcan children's quarters, Yar stopped and punched in a security code, and the doors swished open. She gestured silently for Troi to enter.

"Aren't you coming in?" asked Troi.

Yar stood stiffly with her back to the wall. "No, I'll wait out here. And with all due respect, Counselor, why don't you save your psychological insight for the children? You're wasting your time with me."

"Lt., you are anything but a waste of my time," Troi remarked with a slight smile and then turned away and entered the guest quarters.

* * *

She felt her body hit the wall, but instead of feeling her body crack and give way to the wall, the wall gave way to the force of her hurtling form, and T'Pel was thrust at a great speed out of the confines of the observation lounge. She remembered no more.

* * *

Sickbay was busy, which was odd because there were few patients to speak of. If Dr. Beverly crusher could have prevented what now seemed to be the inevitable battle over Vulcan she would have. But instead now her only option was to prepare to take on a substantial number of casualties. And then there was the more immediate matter of whether Ra'Val would attempt to kill everyone on the ship as he had done in the Andorian colony. If he did lash out again violently, sickbay would be of little use to anyone. She would have to rely on the command officers to do their jobs to protect the crew. She tried to put it out of her head, because whenever she thought too much about the subject, she thought of Wesley, who had once again put himself in the thick of it. She hoped she would not later regret allowing him to stay on the bridge.

For now she took her frustrations out on a disembodied voice emitting from a communications panel. One of the nurses had just contacted her from one of the smaller sickbays."No. I said I want all minor sickbays to be used for triage and emergency cases _only_. Any major surgery and surgical recovery will be done here in the main sickbay... I don't care what doctor Dr. Pickett told you," said Crusher. "Dr. Pickett's not in charge. Crusher out," she snapped.

She glanced up as Commander Riker stepped in to sickbay, and at the same time, she took a data pad from a passing nurse. She shook her head. "Allison, this isn't going to be enough room for the extra bio beds. I'm authorizing you to clear out the med labs—we need to maximize all the resources we have available even if that means emptying rooms. Alright?" said Crusher with a small but encouraging smile as she handed the report back to the nurse.

"Yes, Doctor," the woman said, hurrying away.

Crusher turned her attention back to Riker with a strained expression. She exhaled loudly. "Can I help you, Commander?" She asked, looking and sounding as though she hoped he didn't need too much help.

Riker nodded. "Yes, Doctor, the Captain asked me to check in with you about your preparedness for taking on multiple casualties once we reach Vulcan."

"Well, I have preparations underway, but it would help to know how many we should expect."

"Worse-case scenario is: we could have injuries in the hundreds, with up to one hundred killed."

"Commander that is completely unthinkable," said Crusher obviously outraged.

Riker was grim. "I wish you were right, Beverly, but these are exactly the issues a person in my position has to think about."

"Fair enough," she conceded. "Maybe I should have said unacceptable not unthinkable."

"Put it any way you want," said Riker. It wasn't as though he disagreed with her. "Of course we will do our best to avoid anyone being harmed."

Crusher pressed her lips together in a tight smile. He supposed that was as much of a response as she was willing to give. She handed him her data pad. "Here is what we have so far," she said.

Riker read the reports quickly and nodded. "This looks solid. I am going to recommend to Captain Picard that we move the civilians closer to the interior of the ship which may help to minimize injuries to non-Starfleet crew members."

"And you think he'll agree?"

Riker nodded. "If there's time before we reach Vulcan, I think he will. But I don't think he will risk moving them right now, given the situation with Ra'Val."

Crusher tapped her tricorder on her thigh. "Has anyone heard from T'Pel? It makes me sick to think she may be injured and we have no way of helping her," said Beverly.

"I understand your concern, Beverly, but we have to focus on stopping her brother first. I think we are all pulling for T'Pel. Especially the Captain," he added.

At the mention of Picard, an uneasy expression washed over Beverly's face, but she said nothing for a moment. "And what about my son? Is he still helping Data and Geordi?"

"I left the bridge shortly after you did, but I am sure he is doing great," he said breaking into a smile. "After all, he's come through for us before," he added.

She nodded looking simultaneously proud and embarrassed. "Yes, he has." She paused. "I…didn't exactly agree with Captain Picard about whether Wesley should be on the bridge." Her face flushed slightly as though she might have regretted something of that conversation.

Riker tried to maintain a neutral expression. "Really," was all he said.

She pursed her lips, and it appeared that she was considering whether it was worth it for her to continue. She suddenly had a far-away look in her eyes. "I've known Captain Picard a long time," she said slowly. "But…it's safe to say we went through many years without really getting to know each other, and frankly it has been more awkward seeing him again than I expected. I don't know what I expected, Will, but not this."

"Look," said Riker, honestly surprised and flattered that she was confiding in him. "Your business is your business, and you don't have to tell me anything about your history if you don't want to. I know I gave you a hard time about that on the shuttle, and I hope you weren't too offended when I tried to hit on you a little…"

"Oh is that what that was?" she laughed.

"Not at all my best," he admitted matching her laughter. "But seriously," he said. "I think I was nervous myself about meeting the Captain and I was trying to fish for information. Highly inappropriate," he said, but flashed a grin.

Beverly smiled back. "So has it gotten any better?"

"What?"

"Your nervousness around the Captain," said Crusher lightly.

Riker frowned. "Uh…no not really," he admitted. "Should I expect it to?"

"Not really," Crusher replied, with a half-serious expression.

Her smile faded, as the lights in sickbay flickered a few times. "That's odd," she said. As she spoke the words, a wave of nausea rolled over her, and she turned to look at Riker. More nausea; as just the motion of turning her head made her gag. Riker was doubled over and groaning with his head in his hands. He struggled to look up at her and when their eyes met each recognized the same fear and confusion in the other. Someone was inside their minds.

* * *

Geordi had been wrong; 30 minutes had been just enough time to complete work on Wesley Crusher's portable tractor beam. Of course, there had been insufficient time to test the device adequately. Data locked the small energy capsule into the phaser rifle, and powered it up. He looked down at the floor, where Lt. LaForge lay in a twitching heap. Nearby Chief Engineer Argyle was slumped over his workstation. Blood ran from the man's nose. Data knew that there was nothing he could do for them now, except prevent their deaths—if he could. "Data to Captain Picard," he said, tapping his communicator. He repeated the call, but there was no answer. Data grabbed a smaller phaser from nearby, holstered it, and with another quick glance at LaForge, walked out of Engineering.


	5. Chapter 5

**Demons, Part 4**

**Chapter 5**

Lt. Commander Data was alone, or so it seemed. He was the only android member of the crew, and every crew member he passed as he walked through the ship was either unconscious or appeared to be experiencing a kind of seizure-like attack. He was concerned about what might be the long-term effects of such an ordeal on a humanoid body. Data considered Ra'Val's attack and wondered why the Enterprise crew had not simply ceased to exist through the power of Ra'Val's mind, as had happened with the Andorian colony. Perhaps the larger number of people on the starship would account for the difference.

When he entered the observation level to investigate, Data found evidence of a fierce battle. Judging by the large amounts of green coagulating blood on the deck, he expected to find a body, but ultimately found no one, dead or alive. Had Ra'Val killed T'Pel, he wondered? Based on the severe psychic effects the Enterprise crew was currently experiencing, he could see that Ra'Val had been the victor. Before he exited the level, a shiny twitching object caught his eye. Reversing his tracks and bending down, he grasped the object in his hand and picked it up. He turned it over examining it with critical fascination. It was a robotic hand, as advanced in its own way, as his own. The hand twitched in his hand as though it wanted to return to its owner. Data gripped it in his free hand, as he continued without further hesitation, his search for Ra'Val.

* * *

Minutes earlier...

Deanna Troi was extremely relieved that she had been able to convince the children to come with her to try and hide from Ra'Val. She knew that they feared Ra'Val, but unfortunately, they had been conditioned to believe that they owed him allegiance. In fact, she now learned that all this time, the children had believed that Ra'Val had died on the Andorian moon. T'Kel told her that recently, she and the other children had become aware that Ra'Val had simply taken on the physical appearance of their young friend Thar. T'Kel told Troi that she now believed that her brother Ka'Nel, now comatose, had been under Ra'Val's influence when he had violently lashed out at Troi and the Captain just days ago.

It was not until Thar had disappeared a few hours ago, that the children had admitted as a group that he was not the boy they had known before the disaster on the Andorian moon. They asked Deanna about T'Pel and they revealed that they believed that she had tried to communicate to them without speaking, that Ra'Val was still alive and among them. Troi felt elated for the children because for the first time they seemed to have been released from a kind of spell. Troi tried to steer them away from the knowledge that T'Pel had confronted Ra'Val, and was now in grave danger.

Troi felt Tasha Yar's impatience emanating from the corridor as though the woman was literally tapping Troi on her shoulder. "_Alright_, we're coming," she actually said out loud. When Troi stepped out of the children's guest quarters to find Yar still waiting, she saw not anger, but worry on the Lieutenant's face. Above all else, Troi could tell that Yar did not want to see the children harmed. An armed three-person security team had joined them, and it was then that Yar revealed where she intended to take them.

"Inside the Jeffries tubes?" Deanna was shocked. "How will that be safe?" She was a bit claustrophobic, and the idea of having nowhere to run to, and in fact having to crawl, did not appeal to her.

"I allowed you to do your job, now please allow me to do mine," said Yar a bit harshly, but then almost immediately softened her tone. "Trust me," she said.

* * *

**2332 Arvada III Federation Colony**

Just one week ago, she had turned eight years old. Now she sat with tousled hair upon a hillside of wet leaves and broken trees. She could no longer feel the reassuring pressure of her mother's hand in her own. She still gripped her mother's hand desperately, but the warm pulse that had always been familiar to her had now gone. What did it all mean?

Hours ago, before the mudslide had pushed their house and garden and her entire village through the quickly flooding valley, the three of them had tried to escape to higher ground. Soon after she had seen her father's body float away down the river, his eyes staring at the sky emptily. Her mother had bravely tried to swim out to save him from the flood waters, but despite her efforts she had been swept back toward the shoreline twice. Beverly ran along the river banks, moving too fast to make any sound. When she finally found her mother she was pinned against the rocky shore by an immense tree branch. He mother pushed while Beverly sat on the bank and used her leverage to push the branch with her feet. They did this together for at least an hour.

Once free and out of the frigid water, they both discovered that her mother's legs were unresponsive and she could not move them. She had never heard her mother cry until that moment, but even then it was a single, quiet sob. And then her mother whispered to her that they must get to high ground as quickly as possible. She and her mother had crawled up the hill away from the screams, and torrents of rushing waters. There were many others who had been swept away that day never to return.

With Beverly's help, her mother had used her upper body to drag herself all the way up the hill. When they had reached the top, she watched her mother, so quiet and brave, dying in her lap. If only she knew what to do, she would have done anything in those last moments. And although Beverly's lip trembled, she did not cry.

"Promise me you will go with your grandmother to Caldos, Beverly. You go with Nana," were her mother's last words.

She looked up to find her grandmother's smiling face. "Nana?" Where had she come from?

"Yes, dear," said the old woman still smiling down at her. But as she continued to look Beverly could tell that something was different.

"I want to go to Caldos with you. I want to get off of this hill," Beverly pleaded, shouting into the wind.

Nana's eyes had turned black. "No, Beverly, my dear. You cannot leave this hill. Not ever." Slowly, the old woman withdrew, turning away from the lonely child on the hill.

* * *

**2364 Enterprise**

It hit him so quickly he was unable to react. He saw Wesley fall first, and roll against the bulkhead. The boy was groaning, with disorientation, pain or both, he could not tell. Picard stumbled, and his vision seemed to fade. It reminded him of his dangerous shuttle ride a few days ago. _Oh no, not again,_ he thought.

"Mr. Worf!" he called out, "I can't…" he felt his eyes roll in his head and he slowly dropped to a pushup position, and concentrated on crawling to Wesley. The teenager was twitching as though he were experiencing a seizure.

Picard continued to crawl until he reached Wesley. He turned the quivering boy toward him, and saw that the boy's eyes were shut tightly. If he was conscious, he did not appear to know where he was. He cried out and tears were streaming down his face. "Dad! Dad!" shouted the boy as though he was trying to reach his father.

"Shh, shh, Wesley, it is all- it's alright," said Picard stuttered. His teeth were beginning to chatter as though he were freezing cold. He dragged himself to the wall and sat with his back against it, legs straight out in front of him. "Lt. Worf," he said again. Dimly, he could see Worf struggle to his feet and lean on the tactical station. Picard knew that Klingons had a greater protection from telepathy based on their cranial structure, and he hoped Worf could stay strong at least for a few more minutes.

"Yes, Captain," Worf said dully.

"In…increase speed to maximum warp. Send message to C-Captain Keel. Inform him we are under a…attack. Tell him…Ra'Val."

"Aye sir," said Worf. His chest heaved from labored breathing, but he remained upright. "Sir…we will not be able to transport on or off the ship at that velocity."

"…don't care. Need to get to Vulcan…more quickly" Picard muttered. The pounding in his temples was growing more persistent.

"Dad, please!" Wesley cried out again. He suddenly reached up, arms flailing and then grabbed Captain Picard by the neck. Picard grabbed Wesley by the wrists, realizing for the first time how slender and light the boy was, and lifted him up to a sitting position. Eyes still closed, Wesley threw his arms around Picard's shoulders and gripped him tightly, crawling into his lap as though he were a small child, not an adolescent. "Dad," he whispered.

Picard's brain was so much in turmoil that he did not try to reason with Wesley. His ability to build a coherent thought seemed to be failing. He raised his hand to say something else to Worf, and that is when it finally overtook him. He jerked backward, with Wesley's arms still wrapped around him tightly, and fell unconscious.

Worf slowly turned his head to look at the Captain. Now, he was the only one on the bridge awake. He noted that all other personnel were sprawled on various areas of the floor. He finished inputting the distress code to the _Horatio_, and then slumped against the tactical station.

* * *

**2355 Stargazer**

The battle had been won but his ship was lost, it was now clear. The _Stargazer_ drifted in space, disabled and soon to be forsaken by its crew. The strange horseshoe-shaped ship had taken them by surprise and fired on them while they traveled through the Maxia Zeta system. Picard had chosen to hail the ship several times, and hadn't been quick enough to avoid the first hit to the ship. He hadn't avoided the second hit either, but by then he had formulated a plan. Within seconds he had given the order and his ship went into high warp, appearing to the enemy to be in two places at once, at which point he had fired with everything they had and the enemy ship had been destroyed. But at the cost of his ship. It had been a surprise attack, but he made no excuses, and now here he sat.

"Vigo, get to an escape pod," shouted Picard. When the security officer continued to stubbornly stand at tactical, he roared "That's an order!" It would be the last emotional outburst he would have for years afterward. He was drained, and as much as his ship was broken, so was he. He slumped back into his chair.

His first officer, Zev had already taken the rest of the bridge crew to one of the few remaining escape pods while the rest of the ship's crew continued evacuation procedures. Shortly after she departed, a fire had broken out in engineering and was quickly rising through the decks. The bulkheads were now beginning to radiate heat onto the bridge. Picard wiped his forehead with his sleeve and coughed as smoke began to pour from a vent.

"What about you, Captain?" demanded Vigo, stepping down from tactical and standing in front of Picard. "We've got to get out of here in case there are more of those ships out there. We'll be sitting ducks this time, sir."

"Have all of the decks been evacuated? "asked Picard coughing again. His throat burned from and his eyes were bleary from the acrid smell.

"We haven't received all decks reporting in yet, sir."  
"Then obviously I am not leaving until everyone is away safely in an escape pod," he said without any discernible emotion.

As the temperature on the bridge continued to increase, a strange popping sound began to shiver through the wall supports.  
"I'm not leaving you, sir" insisted Vigo. "The ship is on fire now; she's lost, sir."

Picard stared Vigo down. "There is going to be a court martial, Vigo. It'll be much easier for me if I only have to explain my own actions to command. "  
"Captain, you won't be able to explain anything at all if you're not alive to tell the story," responded Vigo.

"I have no intention of dying just yet," Picard said calmly. But the truth was, death had been on his mind for a year now. Jack had died under his command less than a year ago, and now, well this was another kind of death, he supposed. "Go, Vigo. If you don't leave now, your career will be over. I don't want that responsibility too," he said.

Suddenly Vigo was standing in front of him, and he stooped down to look Picard in the eyes. Vigo's hand shot out swiftly and gripped Picard by the throat. For some reason, Picard could not move his arms to defend himself. Vigo's eyes turned black and it was almost as though they were without limit. "Let go of this ship…."

The grip tightened and somewhere deep in his consciousness, Picard knew it was no longer the _Stargazer_ that he needed to hold on to. "No," he choked, but Ra'Val's grip tightened.

* * *

**Hi, glad so many people seem to still be into this story. Thanks for your feedback and for reading! Makes it fun to keep it going. -PP**


	6. Chapter 6

**Demons, Part 4**

**Chapter 6**

Commander Zatha ordered her ship the _Ishran_ out of warp at the rendezvous point just inside the Vulcan system. She then retreated to her office. Once inside she turned on her computer screen and sat down at her desk. The rendezvous point had been just at the outskirts of the Vulcan system, and it was clear that the other Andorian ships had been here for some time already. If this was the jump off point for an attack on Vulcan, it was hardly hidden from view. So why here, she wondered? Moreover, she had seen two long-range scientific probes exit the lead ship the _Striker_, an odd sight to see on the eve of battle.

She smiled thinly as an idea occurred to her. "Computer, please list the Class M planets in this sector, with the exception of Vulcan," she said.

"Tarsis, Plaxon, Lyris, Alpha Vega, Delta Vega—"

"Halt," snapped Zatha. She sat forward, hands clasped in front of her on the desk. _Delta Vega…the name was familiar to her._ _Perhaps, something from her childhood. _"Summarize the dominant geophysical attributes of the planet Delta Vega," she said.

"Delta Vega: mountainous ice planet with a uniform frigid climate zone. Average day temperature is 23 ulas; average night temperature is 5 ulas," reported the computer.

"Just as warm and toasty as my home planet," murmured Zatha, watching the scrolling information on the screen. She pulled up the list of mineral resources present on Delta Vega, but the list was a long one. "Computer…identify any minerals and ores regularly extracted by the Andorian Empire on other planets which are also native to Delta Vega."

"Searching…" said the computer. Suddenly it beeped insistently. "Albite and Trilithium,"answered the computer. Commander Zatha's skin turned a deep blue color, and her antennae flattened on top of her head. _Trilithium. Of course._

"Surprise, surprise," she said, standing up with a weary sigh. "Current mining operations on Delta Vega?"

"None," said the computer. "In 2230 the Vulcan High Council declared mining operations to be prohibited on Delta Vega. The ban has never been lifted, and generally harsh conditions on the planet have discouraged any attempts to mine illegally."

"Computer, what is the destination of the scientific probes launched from the command ship _Striker_ a few minutes ago?"

"Classified," said the computer.

"Fine," said Zatha, walking out of the room. She had just heard all of what she needed to know for now.

"Commander," said Lt. Darva, as she stepped onto the bridge. "Reports show three Starfleet ships headed to the Vulcan sector.

_Picard._ "Will they intersect with us on their present course?" she asked.

"No sir," said Darva. "The ships are headed directly for Vulcan. No doubt they will attempt to dissuade us from continuing our assault against the Vulcan murderers."

"No doubt," said Zatha drily. "I will be below decks in the brig. I have a few questions to ask my former first officer," she said, before leaving the bridge.

* * *

Deanna Troi hurried through the corridor, with the Vulcan children behind her. Yar barked directions to her, as she and her security force brought up the rear. They passed more and more crew members either lying on the deck unconscious or seemingly paralyzed in a corner as though they were facing their worst fear. Troi could feel the growing anxiety of the officers behind her as though they were grabbing her in a frightened embrace.

Troi knew by now that Ra'Val must have wanted to disable the entire crew. Whether Ra'Val was incapable of killing them all, or he simply did not want to kill them, she could not tell. For some reason, she and Yar and her security officers had not yet been affected. She could only guess that Ra'Val had some use for the children and had no need to harm them. All this time they had been worried about protecting the children from Ra'Val and yet ironically, by being in the vicinity of the children, she and Yar had been protected. So far.

"Stop, this is it!" said Yar, slightly out of breath. She moved quickly around Counselor Troi and opened the Jeffries Tube. "Come on, it's okay, come on," she said encouraging the children. She lifted some of them into the tube and then beckoned for Deanna to follow them. "Hurry, Counselor," said Yar. Troi scrambled up and in, and it was at that moment, that she felt him coming for all of them, like a great dark wave. She struggled to turn around and reach for Yar, but it was too late. The hatch had been slammed shut behind them. She heard shouts, phaser fire, and then silence.

* * *

Lt. Yar almost did not react when she saw him turn the corner and head toward where they stood at the utility tunnel entrance. He was suspended in mid-air and flying toward them, his grey cloak trailing behind him. Something seemed to slow her mind, but something inside her to her to move and she slammed the hatch shut and unholstered her phaser. Her officers were running toward Ra'Val, but she stayed put. She didn't want him to reach the children without having to go through her first. She was the first to fire, and shot over their heads. She hit Ra'Val in the shoulder, but somehow he seemed to just absorb the energy from the phaser. She adjusted to the strongest setting and fired again. Now following her lead, all three of her shouting officers fired at him as well.

Now hit by a volley of phaser fire, Ra'Val hovered above the three security officers and seemed to gather himself, bringing his arms into his chest and lowering his head. Yar could not see his face, as it was shadowed by a hood. She waited, breath held while her phaser cooled down enough for her to fire again. Suddenly he spread his arms out wide, and let loose a bright burst of energy. He had turned the phaser fire back against them. Yar heard the screams of her officers at the same time as they were tossed through the air and then incinerated by the force of their own weapons fire.

Yar rolled to the side and came up firing. The shot seemed to pass through Ra'Val without effect, and he landed lightly on the deck on his feet, and began walking swiftly toward her; toward the children.

"What is it you want?" screamed Yar, backing up, phaser pointing at his chest.

"For you to sleep," said Ra'Val softly, and motioned with his wrist, sending her off her feet and careening into the wall. As she slid down the wall, her eyes rolled back in her head and she twitched before becoming still.

* * *

**2352 Turkana IV**

"Natasha, give them to me!" her sister screamed at her. Ishara, fourteen, was in one of her rages again.

Tasha Yar, just sixteen herself, stuffed a coat into a grimy canvas bag, and turned to regard her sister. "No," she said firmly. "We said we were going to give these up, remember?" She gripped three small tubes in her palm. She could feel them cutting into her skin, and knew that if she used just one of them, most of her troubles would dissipate for a while at least. Part of her considered pocketing at least one of them for the trip off-world. But they had promised each other they would destroy their last few vials from following through. They had made those same promises before, but something had always stopped them. Now Tasha was planning on getting out of this shithole and leaving everything that reminded her of Turkana behind, including the drugs she depended on every day to dull the pain of living.

Ishara pulled at her matted hair in irritation. "Ahh! I don't care what I fucking said _before_, I need them _now_," she snarled. "I'm in so much pain, Tasha. Give me just one, and I won't ask anymore," she pleaded, her tone suddenly changing to a little girl's voice.

Tasha sighed. She poked her index finger into her sister's chest. "This is where your pain is, Ishara. Shooting this shit is not going to help us anymore. We need to get away from here. I told you, there's a supply freighter headed for a space station tomorrow morning and I think I can get us both on board."

Ishara laughed. "You don't even know where that ship is going. Probably some penal colony."

"Is that worse than staying here on Turkana? Come on, it leaves in a few hours," prompted Tasha.

Ishara shrugged. "You think they're not going to notice a couple of hood rats stowing away? Besides, I'm with the Coalition now. I've got real protection now, and you can go your merry way, Tasha."

Tasha slammed her bag down on the floor and gritted her teeth. "Why are you being so stupid, Ish? You don't owe this place a thing, just come with me…okay?"

Ishara folded her arms over her chest to appear tough. It had the unintended effect of making her look even more like a dirty, scared little child. "What is your big plan anyway?" she demanded.

"I'm going to join Starfleet as soon as I can. I can fight and shoot, so I figure they can use me," said Yar trying to act casual. In fact, she had no realistic idea of what it would be like to join Starfleet.

Ishara snickered behind her hands. "You dummy, you have to go to Starfleet school before you go shooting up the galaxy! Even I know that. Come on Tash, they want people with brains, not dumb kids like us."

Tasha's face reddened, feeling her heart harden in the way it often did when she was told she was less than what she knew she was. She picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Fine. I'll give you 30 seconds to decide because I'm leaving." She headed for the entryway to their little shelter under the big steel bridge. Stooping down before she opened the flap, she turned back to her sister. "The Coalition is just another gang, Ishara. They won't take care of you."

"But you would?" Ishara challenged her.

"Yes," said Tasha quietly, and then dropped the vials on the floor. Before her sister could scramble over to grab them, Tasha stomped on them with her boot, smashing the containers. "Good luck," she said, and left their shelter for the last time. As she ran away into the night, she tried to shut out the screams of her little sister.

* * *

"Mr. Hakka, tell me what you know about the planet Delta Vega, and perhaps we can do something about the length of your prison sentence," Commander Zatha demanded. Lt. Hakka, her former first officer and helmsman sat in a prison cell on board the _Ishran_, looking very sullen and Zatha stood outside.

"Commander, I know nothing," said Hakka, trying to hide the disdain from his face as he regarded her.

Zatha laughed, and looked down at her feet before fixing him again with a cold stare. "Hakka, let's just come out with it. You question my loyalty to the Andorian Imperial Guard," she said.

"Yes," hissed Hakka. "I do. There is no possible way Captain Picard escaped without your assistance."

"And for what reason did we need to detain him aboard our ship?" she asked him.

"The reason does not matter, Commander. All that matters is that General Thran gave you an order and you refused it."

"You mean your uncle…General Thran is your uncle, is he not? asked Zatha.

"It is no secret, but yes," said Hakka.

"Yours is quite a wealthy family, Hakka," she observed, pacing around outside his cell. "A well-known mining family, in fact," she added.

Lt. Hakka blinked. "Yes. I do not follow you, however."

Instantly and without warning, the security force filed dropped, and Zatha entered the cell. As though powered by lightning, Zatha's arm shot out and grasped the top of Hakka's uniform, pushing him against the cell wall.

"If you have any information for me about any _alternative reason_ for why we have been ordered to Vulcan, it is in your best interest to tell me…now," she said with quiet anger.

A slow, slippery smile spread over Hakka's face. "I have no information for you…."

* * *

Lt. Commander Data strode through the ship's corridors with a renewed purpose. Recently he had been interested to learn that Lt. Yar and Counselor Troi remained conscious and were traveling through the ship with the Vulcan children on foot. Minutes ago Yar's message had shown up on his tricorder: "Heading to Jeffries #16." Data reasoned that the likelihood of Ra'Val finding the children within the next few minutes was high, so he picked up his pace and began to run.

Jeffries tube number 16 was on the engineering level. He noted burn marks-signs of erratic phaser fire all over the walls, ceiling and deck. As he rounded the corner still at a run, he saw that Ra'Val was floating over what appeared to be an unconscious Deanna Troi and the group of Vulcan children. The children sat cross-legged in a circle, awake and gazing up at Ra'Val as though transfixed. Even for Data, it was a mesmerizing sight. Ra'Val seemed to be unaware of Data's presence.

Yar was crumpled against the wall, head lolling on her shoulder, clearly unconscious. He quietly walked toward her and bent down to feel her pulse. She appeared to have sustained a head injury, but her pulse was strong. Straightening, Data powered up the phaser rifle. He knew he would have only three shots before the weapon overheated. And because his goal was to capture Ra'Val with the force field, he knew accuracy would be paramount.

Ra'Val turned at the sound of the power cell turning on and rose up into the air over Data. His eyes were black and it seemed clear to Data that Ra'Val was attempting to use his power on Data's positronic brain. A look of confusion briefly passed over the Vulcan's face, and then he seemed to understand. He threw his arms out in a tossing motion, and Data was lifted off of his feet and thrown toward Yar's inert body. At that same instant, Data fired a burst from the rifle and the energy field struck Ra'Val on the side of his body, spinning him around in the air. He emitted a low grunting sound.

Data rolled toward the bulkhead and carefully avoided hitting Yar. Before he could get to his feet, Ra'Val was standing over him. Ra'Val held his arms wide and then closed them in a clapping motion and Data was thrown upwards at an alarming speed, and was slammed into the ceiling. He heard the material of the ceiling groan with the impact, and he fell to the deck hard. He fired the phaser rifle at Ra'Val a second time, but the shot missed. Ra'Val advanced on him, and Data felt his limbs being pushed to the floor of the corridor, as Ra'Val exerted the force of his power. Nearly immobilized, Data watched as Ra'Val kicked the phaser out of the way, and then stepped full force onto Data's forehead, removing part of his artificial skin covering.

Suddenly Ra'Val let out a cry, and went hurtling over Data's head. It was T'Pel. She had come running from the opposite direction and slammed into Ra'Val's back as he stood over Data. There was a sickening snapping sound as they flew over Data's head. Data heard a scuffle, and as he rose to his feet and scrambled to gather up the abandoned phaser rifle, he turned to find T'Pel had pinned her brother down with what was left of her robotic arm. It also appeared to Data, that his back was broken.

"Thank you, T'Pel," said Data. "I recommend standing aside," he added. She leapt out of the way, as he fired the third shot at Ra'Val and the Vulcan was enveloped in a bluish energy field.

* * *

_Their lips touched at first languidly, but quickly became more insistent. She gripped the back of his head as he kissed her neck. A slow exhale escaped her mouth as she pressed her body against his. She had been waiting years for this moment, she finally admitted to herself. Smiling as he kissed her collarbone, she brought his face back to hers and they kissed again, this time almost feverishly. She pulled away to look at him to make sure that he was really there because she could not believe that this was happening. "Where were you all this time?" she heard herself whisper._

"_I'm sorry," he said, touching her neck with the back of his hand. An expression of awe shown in his eyes. "I should have been here with you," he said._

Beverly inhaled raggedly, and her eyes snapped open. She blinked a few times. She had been dreaming. The right side of her face was pressed against the floor of sickbay. She coughed and pushed herself up to a sitting position, moving her legs underneath her. Will Riker was stretching his arms and stiffly getting to his feet. He looked as though he was coming out of a daze. They looked at each other and smiled shakily, hoping that for the moment the worst was over.

* * *

Hi everyone, thanks for reading and reviewing! Your feedback is appreciated. -PP


	7. Chapter 7

**Demons, Part 4**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

"Dad! I can't" he shouted.

"You'll be okay, Wes. I promise," his father had called up to him. "Just jump!" Jack Crusher had encouraged him, raising his arms up offering to catch his son. But it was too far, and Wesley began to cry. _How did he even get up there?_ He heard his mother say, sounding more than a little annoyed. Or maybe she was afraid, he couldn't tell. And even more strangely, he could not see her. "Wes, you have to jump, I can't come up there after you," his father shouted again.

"Dad! I can't do it," Wesley shouted back.

"Wes, I have to leave. I can't stay here anymore," said Jack Crusher.

"Why, Dad?"

"Wes, I'm not supposed to be here anymore. You will have to do it on your own," his father called out. To his dismay, his father turned away and began to walk in the other direction. Wesley could see that where the grassland ended, there was a plane of stars, which his father continued to walk towards.

"Dad!" he screamed. If his father was not careful, he was going to fall off the edge of the grass and into the stars.

Jack turned around to look at his son with a smile. "It's okay, Wesley," he reassured his son. "This is where I am going next. This is where I am supposed to be." No matter how much he called after him his father continued to walk away, leaving him up in the tree. Suddenly his father disappeared into the stars.

Wes knew that the only way out of the tree was to jump, but he was so small, he feared he would break his legs when he landed. Suddenly he slipped and began to skid down the tree, scraping his knees. Somehow the branches of the tree stopped his fall. To his surprise, the tree's branches gripped his body firmly yet almost comfortingly. It seemed that the tree was breathing. Realizing that he was gripping the tree in return, he loosened his own fingers in an attempt to free himself. The pressure from the grip around his body lessened somewhat and he shifted his weight downward. His feet dangled as he strained to reach the ground. Seeing he only had a few feet to go, he bent his knees and dropped the rest of the way, landing on soft ground.

* * *

"Ow. Please watch your knee," demanded a deep voice. Wesley opened his eyes slowly and inhaled. Gradually his eyes grew used to the light and he was mortified to find that he was sitting on someone's lap in plain view of the rest of the bridge personnel. The person's arms which had been gripping him very tightly, now completely let him go. Wesley's mortification increased when he realized that this particular lap was Captain Picard's. Wesley rolled away on to the floor in alarm.

"Oof, "said the Captain, rubbing his eyes groggily. The rest of the present bridge crew were either lying on the deck just waking up, or had staggered to their feet.  
Picard stood to his feet and reached a hand out to Wesley, who reluctantly took it and got to his feet. Captain Picard seemed slightly uncomfortable, but seemed to have other concerns as he turned away to find Lt. Worf who was again at tactical.

"Report," he said, blinking away the haze that had cloaked his mind for at least an hour.

Worf read Data's report from his station. "Lt. Commander Data and Commander Riker report that Ra'Val is in custody in cargo bay four Captain. He is severely injured and is being held inside the energy field. An additional radiation field has been placed around him for additional security. Counselor Troi and the Vulcan children were not harmed, sir. At least three security officers are missing and presumed killed, Captain. Data, T'Pel and Lt. Yar sustained non-fatal injuries. Personnel now reporting in from all main departments and all decks. Mostly minor injuries, Captain, and no civilian casualties to speak of sir," said Worf. "Ship's systems operational…still on course to Vulcan at warp ten sir." A now familiar beeping sound issued from ops.

"Captain, we are being hailed by the _Horatio_, sir."

Picard walked over to the command chair and sat down heavily. His legs felt like rubber and though he tried to ignore it, his right leg injury throbbed worse than it had before he had fallen unconscious. He straightened in the chair. Behind him the doors swished open and commander Riker stepped out looking somewhat dazed. Picard turned his head to nod briefly at Riker, who sat down wearily next to the Captain. "On screen Mr. Worf," Picard said.

Momentarily Walker Keels image flashed onto the screen and he looked grim.

"I assume you've taken Ra'Val into custody?" said Keel.

"Yes," said Picard.

"Interesting move there, Jean-Luc: hailing my ship in a situation where I could be of no help to you."

Picard smiled slightly. "Pardon?"

Walker made a face. "You ordered the Enterprise into maximum warp, before hailing us. There was no way short of firing on you to slow you down enough for us to board."

Picard sat forward in his chair, his smile fading. "I thought it a wiser move than slowing down and allowing you to compromise yourself and your own crew, Walker. There was absolutely nothing you could have done to help us. And...we had our own plan."

Walker frowned. "As much as I hate to admit it Jean-Luc, you were right. Again," he conceded. "Unfortunately Starfleet command isn't as impressed. They question why you brought Ra'Val on board in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Picard said frowning. "We certainly did not bring him aboard knowingly, Walker. He disguised himself as a little boy-a little boy whom we were ordered to rescue, I might add."  
Walker nodded. "I know, Jean-Luc. But the problem now according to Command is that because Ra'Val got loose your entire crew was compromised psychologically."  
"And?"  
"And... everyone in your command crew has been ordered to undergo fitness for duty examinations..."

"Walker, my Chief Medical Officer was compromised along with the rest of us."

"Understood. My ship's doctor will beam over and can handle the exams."

"And? What else?" Picard prompted him, standing up.

"I've been ordered to take command of the _Enterprise_ until we meet up with the _Columbia_ at Vulcan."  
Riker stood up. "What?!" Picard motioned for him to sit back down but then turned back to regard Walker questioningly.  
"Walker, this is highly irregular" he protested.  
"Captain, maybe we should finish the rest of this conversation over a secure channel."  
"You can say anything you need to in front of my crew," snapped Picard.

"Jean-Luc, it's not you or your crew I'm worried about."

* * *

Minutes later, Picard and Riker stood in the Captain's ready room, and Walker Keel's image had been transferred to a smaller screen. "What is this all about, Walker," Picard demanded.

"As I said, I'm to take command temporarily. Once you are cleared for duty, you should be able to take command again once we reach Vulcan."  
"What do you mean I _should_ be able to take command again? Who is behind this?"

"Admiral Imhoff has ordered a brief inquiry into your actions with regard to Ra'Val. You'll have to find out the rest of the details from the Admiral, I'm afraid. Please drop out of warp and I'll beam over shortly. Keel out." The screen went black.

Picard ran his hand over his face in frustration, and then to Riker's mild shock he began to laugh. "Oh, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said, still chuckling as Riker watched him with interest. It had been obvious to him from the start that Admiral Imhoff had not wanted him in command of the Enterprise. Picard actually wondered now if the entire mission had been meant to set him up to fail.

He should have known Imhoff would try and get his way, which meant getting Picard out of the picture. He sighed and then quickly composed himself. "Well…" he said, turning to Riker. "I suppose this means we are soon to be off duty, at least temporarily. Please make the appropriate arrangements for the relief bridge crew, Commander," he added. Riker nodded and turned as if to leave.

"Oh…Commander, you are alright aren't you?" Picard asked.

Riker smiled. "Yes, sir, thank you for asking. It was definitely not a pleasant experience though…" he said trailing off and losing his smile.

Picard inhaled slowly. "Agreed," he said. He lowered his head slightly. "You were in sick bay when it…when it all happened?" Riker nodded. "Did you—"

"Doctor Crusher seems to be alright, sir," he said quickly.

Again to Riker's surprise, Picard's face displayed intense relief. He nodded curtly, looking slightly embarrassed. "Very good," he said. "Thank you."

Riker nodded and exited the ready room.

* * *

"Who usually assists you with your maintenance, Commander?" Crusher asked, carefully examining the flap of "skin" that had exposed Data's scalp. The blinking lights that were apparently normally hidden by his hair were utterly fascinating to see. Too bad Data had to have been injured in order for her to see them. Crusher tried not to stare.

Data looked puzzled. "I have always completed my own diagnostics and minor repairs, Doctor. This is in fact the first time in which I have been…wounded in this way. I have never required assistance with my systems before now."

"As bad as it looks, Data, how does it feel?" she asked honestly because she had no idea.

Data opened his mouth as if to say something and then frowned. "To be exact, Doctor Crusher, I do not _feel _anything. However, I do have neuro-pathways which approximate your nerves. And those indicate that my injuries are relatively minor."

"Ah," said Crusher with a small smile. She patted Data lightly on the shoulder. "To use exact medical terminology then, you're going to be okay," she said. "But," she said, checking her tricorder. "We still have the problem of putting your head back together, if you will excuse my crude way of putting it," she added.

"That is in fact an accurate statement," said Data.

"I could give it a try." Data and Crusher both turned to see Lt. LaForge, who was sitting up on a nearby biobed. "I'm pretty good with repairs, and you know, I could give it a try," he offered easily.

Crusher raised her eyebrows and looked at Data, as if to say "it's up to you."

"I am willing," said Data. Geordi nodded and hopped off the bed to attend to his friend.

* * *

Crusher stood worriedly over the sleeping form of Tasha Yar. The young woman had sustained severe bruises to the back of her neck and a substantial concussion from her confrontation with Ra'Val. But it was clear that Yar was a fighter, and within a few days she would recover fully.

T'Pel was another story completely. Crusher moved to her side and switched on the diagnostic diagram. Leaning in, Crusher could see that while her vital signs were stabilizing, she had sustained considerable damage to her spine, which Crusher was optimistic would not be permanent. Her body had impacted something, perhaps a wall, which was not meant to be crashed through by a living body, and it had taken Crusher some time, but she believed she had stopped most of the internal bleeding. Her left arm, a mechanized prosthetic, had been nearly demolished, and would need to be reconstructed. Crusher sighed and straightened up.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her son approaching. She rushed to him and hugged him fiercely. Pulling away she looked at his face and smoothed his hair. "Are you alright?" she asked, trying to stay calm. Wesley nodded yes, but she quickly ran her tricorder over him anyway. Happily, she learned, he was telling the truth. For some reason he repeatedly shifted his gaze, which he did typically when he was trying to keep something from her.

Given the variety of bizarre visions and highly emotional dreams she herself had experienced, she decided to leave the topic of whatever Wesley had experienced while unconscious for a later conversation. She hugged him again, glad that they were both alive. Over his shoulder she noticed Captain Picard walk in to sick bay. She noted that despite his assurances about feeling better, he was limping, favoring his left leg slightly.

Her heart leapt in her chest, and she watched him as she continued to hold on to Wesley almost reflexively. Picard began speaking to Data in a low voice, while Geordi continued his repairs. After a few moments, she saw Picard reach out and shake Data's hand briefly, and he patted Geordi's shoulder before walking away.

"Mom," said Wesley, sounding muffled. "You can let go of me now."

"Sorry," she said, letting him go. Picard was approaching them both now, but his eyes rested on T'Pel's unconscious shape on the recovery bed.

"Oh no," said Wesley under his breath. He was absolutely freaked out that the Captain might mention what had happened on the bridge.

"Doctor, Mr. Crusher," Picard said in greeting, as he neared. "Good to see you both are well." Wesley was relieved that the Captain decided not to reveal to his mother that Wesley had spent the afternoon sitting on his lap.

"Yes, Captain, we're fine," said Beverly quickly and then fell silent.

"Wesley, will you excuse us for a moment?" said Picard. Before Wesley could say anything, they had stepped away to a nearby corner.

* * *

"Doctor, how are T'Pel and Lt. Yar?" He rubbed his chin and nodded as she explained their prognoses to him. "I cannot believe she had the strength to stop him—with Data's help of course. But based on Data's description of the events, he had only one shot left and the weapon was out of his hands when she arrived. She certainly came through for us."

Crusher shook her head. "Jean-Luc, somehow I think that unlike everyone else you never had any doubt that she would."

He smiled wryly. "No, I suppose I never had a doubt, despite everything." He cleared his throat. "But, something else has come up. Starfleet has ordered the command officers, including yourself to undergo fitness for duty tests before returning to duty. Doctor Tamsen from the Horatio will determine whether we are ready to return to duty, and we've dropped out of warp for the moment." He paused and a look of frustration crossed his features.

She searched his eyes. "Jean-Luc, there is something you're not telling me."

"They've put Walker in command of the _Enterprise_ until we reach Vulcan at least," he said heavily.

She laughed lightly. "Is that all? Captain, I am sure that within a few hours you will be back in charge."

He looked away. "I am not so certain about that," he said. "My days as Captain of the Enterprise could be numbered, Beverly. I just wanted you to know," he added, turning back to look at her. He smiled tightly but there was a degree of pain in his eyes that she couldn't miss.

Her smile faded. "After all that, they're just going to take it away from you?" She shook her head. "After all you've given Starfleet…damn them," she said with quiet anger. Her features softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. When she touched him, an image from her dream came back to her quite intensely, but she tried to suppress it. "Jean-Luc, I'm sorry this is happening. If there is anything I can do…"

He smiled faintly at her. "I appreciate that, Beverly. But for now, please just carry on as you have. And make sure you get some rest. As of now, you're off duty." With that he turned and walked out of sick bay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Demons, Part 4**

**Chapter 8**

The crew passed the relatively brief physical and psychological tests with ease and most were returned to active duty within a few hours. Picard sat in his quarters shortly after passing his own tests. Technically he had been cleared for duty and yet, Walker was still in command the _Enterprise_ and had been ordered by Admiral Imhoff to resume their course to Vulcan at warp nine. Walker's first officer had for the moment, assumed command of the _Horatio_, also on course for Vulcan.

According to the latest reports, which Picard read because he didn't have anything better to do, near Vulcan, cooler heads had prevailed so far, and although still on the verge of war, no overtly aggressive moves had been made yet by either side. Perhaps, thought Picard, the Andorians would see reason once they had proof that Ra'Val had been captured and placed in custody. Perhaps if the Vulcan High Council would allow Ra'Val to be extradited to Andoria for trial the hostilities between the two worlds would be lessened. How someone this dangerous could be safely tried he wasn't sure. At any rate there was nothing he could do about it at this time, given his current predicament.

Walker had informed him that Ra'Val was now being monitored by medical personnel and it was clear that his back had been broken. Despite his serious injuries, he did not appear to be at risk of dying, it seemed. With Data's assistance Dr. Crusher was now periodically administering an airborne analgesic to kill any undue suffering he may be experiencing. Perhaps more than a known mass murderer deserved.

But increasingly it bothered him to picture Beverly near Ra'Val at all even if he was severely injured and immobilized by an energy field. He put the thoughts out if his mind. Of course she was just another officer under his command, wasn't she? He couldn't protect her any more than he could anyone else. He reassured himself that his concerns about her were valid and objective, not emotional. He had rarely acted on emotion before so why did he feel differently now? It confused and frustrated him at a time when he needed to have a clear head. And he had discovered years ago that he almost never had a clear head when thinking about Beverly Crusher.

* * *

As he sat quietly, he tried not to let recent events disturb him. This situation was not permanent, he told himself. He hadn't lost the Enterprise yet, but over the years he had learned when to fight and when to wait. Now was a time to wait. The door chime startled him. "Come," he called out, and without further invitation Walker Keel strolled in.

Walker approached and sat down across from him in the living room. "Jean-Luc, how are you?" his friend asked, leaning forward and peering at him more cautiously than was probably necessary.

Picard leaned back and exhaled. "I'm fine, Walker, what brings you here?" He answered evenly.

Walker paused. "I know we both know that your return to command will happen soon enough, but …I have to say, my friend, you seem to be taking this really well, considering the circumstances."

Picard gestured with his hands as though mystified. "Walker, what did you expect? That I was going to cry and stomp my feet until I got my way?"

"Well...maybe no crying..."allowed Walker with a slight smile, trying unsuccessfully to inject humor into the situation.

Picard was not laughing. He clasped his hands together in his lap. "The fact is, Walker… I'm not at all surprised that this is happening."

Walker fixed him with a probing look. "What are you talking about Jean-Luc?"

"It's nothing," said Picard looking down at his hands. "Ancient history, " he murmured.

Walker nodded slowly. "It's Imhoff isn't it? What is he holding over your head?"

Picard stared at Walker as though he suddenly had no idea what his old friend was talking about.

Walker pushed himself to his feet in frustration. "Fine, be that way, Jean-Luc. You never change, you know that? I'm your friend, but most of the time I might as well be a goddamn stranger."

Picard remained still, and looked up at his friend. "Walker, you sound ridiculous," he said dismissively.

"Oh I sound ridiculous, do I? I'm being _honest_ with you, Jean-Luc. Maybe your inability to be honest with yourself is the problem, Jean-Luc. You're being dishonest with me about this Imhoff situation, dishonest about your anger about being _unfairly_ stripped of your command, dishonest with Beverly about your feelings for her. Really, Jean-Luc, stop being such a coward—" Walker knew he should regret the dig about Beverly which he had added in just for good measure, but really he didn't regret it. Not even remotely.

Picard leapt to his feet and for a brief instant Walker thought Jean-Luc was actually going to hit him. Instead he spoke with simmering anger. "Get the hell out of here," he said.

* * *

After Walker left, he went into his room and lay down, dimming the lights. His goal was to clear his mind and get some rest. But his thoughts kept returning to what Walker had said "…stop being such a coward…." Damn Walker Keel; he always seemed to provoke him in the most irritating ways to think about things he did not want to think about. Picard knew his friend had his best interests in mind, but this knowledge did nothing to make him feel better. And this was because even before Walker had pointed it out, he had been thinking the same thing about himself. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, the kind he experienced only when arguing with himself, he fell asleep, but it was not to be restful.

_After Vigo reluctantly left with the others in one of the last of the escape pods, Picard had stood in the middle of the bridge of the Stargazer and all around him, the heat from the Engineering fire was becoming unbearable. He watched the pod appear on the view screen suddenly as it was ejected from the ship carrying the last of his bridge crew to safety. Anyone left on this ship is dead, he thought morbidly. He knew it was a possibility that he would soon join them if he did not act fast. He began to cough from the exertion of trying to breathe through the billowing smoke. All he had to do was head for an escape pod and then watch his ship explode from a safe distance. But something made him do something else. He didn't know why he made the decision then to do what he did. And every decision he made afterward had consequences which followed him year after year. He couldn't lose the ship. Not now that he had lost almost everything else._

_A sense of urgency spurred him forward. Running to a storage locker just off the bridge, he grabbed a space suit and helmet; the kind rarely used for emergency repairs to the outer hull. He pulled it over his body, and fitted the helmet on. Locking it into place, the seal hissed, and the pressure inside the suit caused it to hug closer to his body. His breath immediately fogged up the glass on his helmet and he could see on the controls that the temperature outside his suit was 130 degrees Fahrenheit and rising. He poked at some controls on the forearm of his suit, turning on the internal fan. A cooling sensation ran over his limbs and extremities, and for a second he felt the need to relieve his bladder. Thankfully the sensation passed. He checked the air meter for the suit and_ _it blinked at 10 minutes. Ten minutes seemed quite unfair, but it would have to be more than enough time, he told himself. _

_Knowing the turbo lifts were non-operational, he ran to a utility ladder and slid down the next level. He repeated this action of running to a utility ladder on each level and sliding down to the level below as fast as possible. This seemed and endless and thankless game. Finally, when his boots landed on the engineering level, he noted that six minutes had passed already. Only four minutes left. Hurry up, he told himself. _

_That was when he heard the voice in his headset. "Captain Picard, please come in." It was the voice of Zev, his first officer. She had boarded an escape pod with other crew members more than 30 minutes ago. Seemed so long ago. He tried to blink the sweat out of his eyes. His breath was rapid, nearly out of control as he searched for a hatch, trying not to become so frantic that he failed to think properly. "Captain Picard, do you read me?" Zev's worried voice sounded again through the communicator in his helmet._

_He clumsily tripped over something soft, and landed on the deck. Through the smoke he saw that what he had tripped over had been a person. It was the assistant chief engineer, Marcus; just a young man at the time of death, and his eyes stared vacantly at Picard. He saw no accusation in those eyes, but they would forever haunt him. His gaze fell several feet away, and he now saw that there were many more shapes lying still on the deck. All dead. _

_As he pushed himself to his feet he began to hyperventilate, and could see little through the smoke and flames that roared through engineering. The fire was nearing the warp core now. "Captain Picard, we are being hailed by Starfleet command," said Zev's voice again. "All escape pods are clear from the ship now sir. We should be safe if the Stargazer is destroyed, but you must leave now." He shook his head silently in disagreement. Two minutes of air were left in his suit._

_His breath came quickly now, and he struggled to gulp in slower breaths to calm himself and conserve oxygen. He saw the hatch, and ran toward it. "Captain Picard! This is Admiral Imhoff. We are prepared to take on all survivors at Starbase 413. You are ordered to leave your ship, __**now**__." _

_Picard punched in a command code and then manually released the emergency bolts on the hatch, and watched as orange lights blinked on and off. "Stand clear… stand clear," the computer droned repeatedly. He ran back to the utility ladder he had slid down, and wrapped his arms and legs around it._

"_Picard, what are you doing?" shouted Imhoff. "Get off the ship!"_

_He watched with light-headed fascination as the emergency hatch blew out into space, and everything that was not bolted down, or gripping a utility ladder, slid toward the hatch at great speed. His legs floated up in sudden weightlessness, and the fire was immediately extinguished, as the air rushed out into the void of space. _

* * *

He sat up in bed, wheezing desperately. Slowly, realizing where he was, his chest stopped burning. That was where this recurring dream always ended. Of course he had reached a small escape pod, had gotten free of the ship and joined the rest of his crew. The ship had drifted away, battered and decidedly broken, but because he had managed to extinguish the fire, the core had been saved, and ultimately so had the_ Stargazer_.

He'd been questioned about it for months even before the formal court martial inquiry into the _Stargazer's_ loss. Why didn't he leave with the others? Why didn't he answer when called on his communicator? The only answer he'd been able to come up with when questioned by Admiral Imhoff that first day on Starbase 413, was that "the communicator must have malfunctioned, sir". Yes, he had lied, and had never admitted it to anyone, not even Walker. He could have acknowledged the order from Imhoff sooner, but he chose not to. The truth was that for reasons he might never understand he had been ready to die on the _Stargazer_ that day.

An insistent chirp sounded through his quarters. "Riker to Captain Picard…"

"Go ahead, Number One," he said, pulling on clean black pants and a shirt.

"I know you're not officially on duty yet sir, but I just wanted to let you know that we've reached Vulcan," said Riker. "And sir, there is something very odd happening in cargo bay 4 sir," he added.

Picard walked swiftly into the cargo bay where Ra'Val was being kept inside the floating energy field. "What is going on?" he demanded, when he reached Doctor Crusher. Two armed security officers stood stoically on either side of her. Crusher didn't immediately seem to hear Picard, and she was staring at someone standing next to the energy field. He followed her eyes, and then rushed forward. It was T'Pel. She in turn was staring into the globe of energy that was keeping Ra'Val and she was still dressed in her hospital clothing.

"She hasn't spoken a word, Jean-Luc," said Crusher. "She just suddenly got up from bed and walked here. Naturally I followed her."

Picard resisted the urge to tell her to be more careful, but he reasoned to himself after all, she had brought security personnel with her, what other precautions could she have taken? He moved and consciously placed himself in front of Beverly. "T'Pel, what are you doing?" he demanded, careful not to yell and startle her. T'Pel did not turn around, but merely pointed at Ra'Val. Picard felt his stomach drop. Ra'Val still appeared to be unconscious, but his robes were now gone and he was curled in a sort of fetal position, facing away from them. No bruises appeared on his back, and most bizarrely, his spine was glowing iridescently under his skin.

Data walked up behind him, tricorder whirring in his hand.

"What on earth…" Picard muttered, still staring.

"If I had to guess, sir," said Crusher, "I would say he is re-generating, even re-growing his spine."

"Is the field holding?" he asked Data.

The android looked up from reading the tricorder. "Yes, sir," he said. "The field strength remains at one hundred percent."

"Good," said Picard. "Make sure we continue to monitor the field strength—" he turned as quick footsteps echoed behind him.

"Captain Picard, perhaps I did not make it clear enough to you that you no longer have authority to give orders on board this ship." Admiral Imhoff halted in front of him, looking typically severe. Next to him stood an unfamiliar looking male officer, dressed in security gold, and holding a large data pad. "You are ordered to report to quarters until further notice. I am taking command now," he finished with a thin smile.

**End of Part 4**

* * *

**Hello, please stay tuned for the final Part of this story-I expect Part 5 (or maybe 6) will wrap it up. I am still having a great time writing this one, so thanks for continuing to follow and review it. -PP**


End file.
